


knock boots, guns for pens!

by jenlvbug



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Actor Na Jaemin, Aged Up NCT Dream, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Celebrities, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Journalism, Light Angst, M/M, On Set, Pre-Relationship, Secret Relationship, this fic is just vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenlvbug/pseuds/jenlvbug
Summary: Jaemin eyes up and down the reporter. Brown shoes, beige pants and a sad brown jacket again covering a simple fitting shirt. Beauty criminally wasted, is the only thing crossing his mind before recollecting himself from the funny question, quirk of an eyebrow.“What’s your name, darling?”.“Jeno Lee”.“Oh”. So this is what Jeno Lee looks like. The infamous reporter taking a self challenge to drag him through his pointed words each newspaper title and section they offer him to write.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	knock boots, guns for pens!

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i’m back here again with this very foolish last fic for a while :)  
> my uni classes are starting tomorrow and i won’t be able to update or write something new since i know how draining online classes are for my eyes and i won’t spend more time than necessary in front of a computer screen ;; also my health is acting up recently and i’m trying to rest enough to follow the lectures well
> 
> so this is it for now, not too sure when i'll post something new again but i’m happy there’s enough content for you to consume from both of my accounts. i always have a lot of fun writing these kinds of pieces, this is definitely not the greatest out there but i hope you’ll enjoy. 
> 
> see you next time <3

“The fuck you’re doing in my bed”. Jeno covers his chest clutching at the dirty bed sheets, boose and bender of the night soaked in a slugged duvet. Jaemin watches him sit up on the mattress, fifteen minutes left to reach the movie set from the slanted clock ticking on top of a wardrobe. He spots a condom thrown on the floor, hand rubbing fiercely his eyes.

“Fuck”. Jaemin stands up, towel stolen from the hanger next to the stained mirror. House of filth, just as his body feels recollecting pieces of memory. “I’m taking a shower”.

“Make yourself at home”. Replies the low stingy voice, soiled with a hoarse sound.

He walks closer where Jeno lies keeping hooded eyes, straddling his chest and the towel in his loose fist drags to the carpeted floor. A smirk, cocky one of a lifer recognizing the same glint from a man that unlike him, isn’t brave — surely wiser though, fitting his goody two shoes role, hiding. Truth denied as it sits on his lap.

“You fucker can start thinking of a title for your stupid article. Jaemin Na and his flare for recreational substances and alcohol issues”. 

Jeno doesn’t falter from the way Jaemin pushes his hips close to his face. “You honestly can all suck my dick”. He receives a kittenish lick at the tip of his cock, eyes jaded with sleep.

Jaemin sneers, keen breath stuck in his throat from the brief engulfing of the reporter’s mouth bobbing through his length. He slaps his hollowed cheek, watching the string of spit at the corner of his mouth when he pulls.

“You first, doll. You really love sucking my dick”.

“Not as much as you loved being fucked from behind against the wall, if I recall”.

“So you do know what I’m doing in your bed then”. 

Jeno leans back spent, ignoring him. Jaemin rolls his eyes, confidently deeming this the most constructive conversation he’s engaged with him so far. He stands up, head dizzy from a hangover starting to mentally list any kind of drug or drink he’s taken, challenging to remember which one was it that did the damage. 

Low on spirits and life sucked by addictions, high with the need to piss this one reporter reminding they share the same dirty secret if it ever crosses his mind to make their little rendezvous public. Job or habit.

“Beat it”. Jeno pushes him off the bed and Jaemin heads to the bathroom with a silence breaking cackle, sure annoying for the other’s hangover clouding a still poorly functional brain to be attacked so early in the morning.

Cigarette filter burning in his fingers sides he can’t drag any more smoke out quenched against the wall, Jaemin grabs the coffee jag from the wobbly plastic table once he gets on set. Three minutes late, the clock signals, dirty white superga and running on a schedule today.

The director gives him a scold, a daily one he doesn’t care about, sitting at the makeup chair to read the script for today’s first scene. He looks like crap, dry skin Yeji complains about as she puts moistuizer smelling freshly of shower, fashion show clothes tangled in alcohol and sex left in a brief stop at his apartment to change. Nothing surprising, strong cologne today forgotten on his clothes or left in a club and another body, robbed of a sweet awakening in his apartment.

Still with someone warming the sheets, never being the one in someone else’s home. And what a host he’s had for the night. His eyes are fixed on the script — dull, if he’s honest, as the makeup artist fixes the dark streaks lingering under his eyes. Permanent shadows nestling a home there, since he’s had his first beer and bravado.

The director, Chenle Zhong, steps in the minivan disturbing his peace and quiet. Jaemin quite honestly never liked his works, albeit everyone wants to work with him and Renjun won’t let him miss a chance. Jaemin Na, reckless actor, rising star playground of cheap gossip and loud mouths. He thinks people are out of their minds for considering him a role model of any kind, his job included; and his life, frankly, Jaemin isn’t proud of himself.

Unhealthy patterns are easy to pick up and demanding to let go. He confidently strolls through all of them, always wearing an easy smile and blinking a wink the paparazzi’s way. Confidence to cope with the fortune coming with a job like his. Easy to gain, easier to vanish and be forgotten in a flip of a morning newspaper.

Chenle asks if he is willing to truly participate in this project, and Jaemin can’t blame him. They should think of a recast, yet despite all the times he comes late or in not entirely suitable conditions Jaemin always works, and he acts damn well. 

No one can put their mouths on his performances, mostly perfect in one take and that’s why Jaemin isn’t jobless on a street begging the sky for a decent life. A normal lifestyle wouldn’t suit him, might edge him to the corners of insanity. He has fame kissing his forehead and following him seduced; actor of the moment boosting his career, never stopping, fueling magazines and front pages.

“You’re the big thing Jaemin, of course we’re all counting on you”.

“I’m your monthly income, okay, got it babes”. Jaemin nibbles at a piece of toasted bread with jam, too nauseous to eat, crumpling the script in a fist as he walks past all of them heading to the set.

Some time before the damage, 1983

“I think you should see this”. Renjun slowly scrapes his temple, lips bitten nervously sliding the newspaper Jaemin’s way in the new expensive studio.

Bless the day Renjun Huang decided it would be a good idea to be his manager despite the chaos Jaemin already was to the media's descriptions, finding out soon the man of his same age might be more insane than he is. In different ways of course, yet intriguing enough to make them start on a good foot. Juggling between the worst, sharpest tongue brutally honest with Jaemin since day one, contrasting his subdued looks. Good looks he knows how to use, suit clean and astounding strategies working fast to fix it for him.

Jaemin is impressed by the honesty, without filters, insulting him mercilessly if needed. Renjun loves him more than anyone else sugar coating things for him, solving tangles he does with his own hands most times. If it wasn’t for Renjun he might have more scandals than movies he participated in. People love to gossip, create stories more elaborated than the frame caught of him and some of his casual companies, flashy nights seeming more exciting on paper than the actual outcome of those.

And for locals and fans to gossip around, there are minds and hands behind those articles, some particularly devoted writing poorly about him. Jaemin can tell who it is from the wicked words of the title alone; he doesn’t bother to read the article, eyes falling on that challenging name anyway. 

Jeno Lee. Always him, stupidly short and memorable name engraved in his head accompanied to all the worst articles he’s ever gotten under his name. Jaemin sure gives him and all the reporters good material to publish in smartly elaborated insults, yet the day his name will be a memory without being followed by a trail of burning curiosity isn’t coming any time soon. Good, bad or dirty they fuel it, his name always striking on ink.

That’s enough for him to not bat an eye, snarky when he folds the newspaper and pushes it to the side. A photo of him with a couple of ladies, a very fun night he had, yet nothing too crazy. He’s a man, a consenting adult who has sex and drinks a few shots too much, he has no faults. Especially media love to cover details that are important with a flirty good looking actor, it is their favorite pastime. He’s been in the scene long enough to learn, they would be bored to death without subjects like Jaemin Na coming around from time to time.

He snorts sarcastically, cigarette quenched inside his unfinished cup of coffee.

“My boy Jeno Lee might need to knock boots, I can feel the frustration from the title alone”.

“Catty”. Renjun chuckles, clearly amused as he hides his spirited eyes once Jaemin looks at him. The manager flips the newspaper in his slim fingers, crisping sound of thin paper, mention of a lifted corner of his lips. “You don’t know what he looks like”.

“Plain, I can assure you”. He lights up another cigarette, languishing on the expensive leather armchair. His success benefits Renjun, recently moved in the expensive walls of an office where he deals with Jaemin’s troubles and professional requests. 

The latter of fewer occasions than the managing paparazzi pictures and floods of questions about Jaemin, considering he does get professional when it comes to acting and no one complains about his performances. He also has a good relationship with his fans, loving words and letters sometimes cluttering in the poor man’s studio.

Renjun is treating himself well after all. New haircut in brown dark hair, same slim nose and small plum lips pinking with his tongue continuously wetting them. He spots a new suit of a fancier material, clearing his throat and forgetting the newest article at the corner of his shining matte black desk. Jaemin remembers the first time he came around his old studio, the man looking trapped in a high school boy’s body, guessing they’re both maturing. He was barely in his mid twenties back then, now soon to blow thirty shaped candles.

“Can we talk business?”. Renjun sighs, dragging a contract his way. 

Jaemin leans, propping up his chin in one hand, smoke blowing in a white elusive string. He mentions his head towards it, and Renjun fixes his postures. He’s about to really talk business if he does that. He scans the paper, reads a few lines that catch his attention and gives an idea what it is about.

“Gucci?”. 

“You know Jungwoo adores you, you have to wear his piece”. He taps his finger on the yellow paper, the location of the event circled with a pencil. “It’s a fancy event, Jaemin. Lots of journalists asking tough questions. No scandals or insults, just wear that pretty smile of yours and be pretty much a very alive mannequin".

“Uuh”. Jaemin lifts his eyebrows teasingly. “Like the french’s displays”.

“So? What do I tell Kim?”. Renjun doesn’t sound amused by his words loitering, pursuing his lips with that stinging face he makes when edgy. Jaemin stopped telling him to loosen up a long time ago, bearing with his moods; the least he can do when there’s no one who could manage him as Renjun does.

“I’m in”. 

Jaemin preens with praises visiting the constantly moving tailoring — today an old palace room Jungwoo booked to see the fit in person and adjust it to his liking, lights of a gleaming sun blinding in the wide ivory walls following the ceiling arched in a cupola.

Arms stretched out and a slaked cigarette in hand, he gives a smile to the working hands of Yuta, Jungwoo’s trusted tailor tightening the space around his lean waist to fix the red suit measurements as he turns his head with a confident smile catching Jungwoo’s satisfied folding of lips. Radical.

No shirt underneath, wide chest exposed in the v line and a final sewed belt around his waist of the dark silky red suit is how he walks in to the colored carpet on the awaited night a few weeks later, stepping confidently in his leather loafers.

Dark brown locks slicked back leaving a mullet falling free to his nape, face posing for the camera flashes linking one friendly arm around Jungwoo, looking proud of his creation showing him off at any flash clicking in snapping sounds. There are lots of them, and as Renjun anticipated the red carpet is filled with reporters at every angle, ready to eat him alive with their overbearing questions.

Contrary to their luck, Jaemin never learned to swim with sharks; he’s one himself. He steals a glance Renjun’s way, nodding solemnly and Jaemin considers it duty. He rewards a few glasses of champagne later at the event, and a nice company he trusts.

Leaning to the small microphones or recorders, answering questions some less pleasant than others. Is it true you almost quit the role for Zhong’s new movie? Did you really ask to do a recast? Is there any bad blood with the female lead to lead you to that choice? What about your multiple partners? Anyone special in your life?

“Dumb questions. Just look at the shots printed in every magazine”. 

Jaemin turns to a huffing reporter, small plastic recorder in hand and a bored look at the crowded media's way. Jet black hair, perfect slope of his nose and as they lock gazes Jaemin spots a gracious mole under his right eye. A true delight of a face, might steal the spotlight on him with that beauty if it wasn’t for the plain attire. Brown on a fashion event, bold and hideous move. Perfect to disappear in the faces greedy for answers if it isn’t for his attitude.

He smiles finally entertained, tilting his head with a step to the reporter. “Do you have better questions? Enlighten me”.

“You left your last movie on bad terms with Xiao, to the point where none of you could attend the same premiere and you conveniently got covered up with other commitments . What was it? Harmless fight on set?”. The reporter straightens his back, fluttering thick black lashes. “Call it a breakup?”.

Jaemin brings two fingers on his cupid’s bow, trying to hold back a smile at the suggestion. He thought Renjun had that detail covered for him; true they got assigned a new movie to keep him busy and find a believable excuse, especially since Dejun wasn’t too happy about people finding out their small flirt. It happens with your co-star sometimes, you bond on set and… somewhere else after the director shouts cut.

Jaemin eyes up and down the reporter. Brown shoes, beige pants and a sad brown jacket again covering a simple fitting shirt. Beauty criminally wasted, is the only thing crossing his mind before recollecting himself from the funny question, quirk of an eyebrow.

“What’s your name, darling?”.

“Jeno Lee”.

“Oh”. So this is what Jeno Lee looks like. The infamous reporter taking a self challenge to drag him through his pointed words each newspaper title and section they offer him to write. 

Jaemin checked other articles, and none of those speak as lowly as he does of him. Yet the man is subtle, sarcasm on two feet and Jaemin wasn’t expecting him to be good looking. Makes it fun, he doesn’t care what the brown outfit boy truly thinks.

Renjun comes over and takes him away from the crowd of media, some disappointed and others clinging to their recorders and notebooks checking if they have anything good. Jaemin whispers a “Too bad” Jeno’s way and winks with a frivolous wave of his hand. It’s showtime, literally, Jungwoo impatient to have Jaemin take a seat next to him for the fashion show.

Frustrating for many, the rumors about him and fashion designer Jungwoo Kim are all false. Sure, the man is gorgeous and a good friend; spotting his tender, almost angelic profile out of tune with the exuberant personality Jaemin considers him one of the good friendships made from the scene life. Part of the few honest ones he has.

He watches the models walking the runway, colorful and eye-catching outfits yet his attention trails a few rows behind where Jeno Lee sits. He must be one of the engaged reporters of the night, thrilling the idea of sharing a talk with him again. Jaemin needs to be stimulated in slightly risky ways for entertainment purposes, having the feeling a sharp tongue won’t do him any dirt. 

A few flashes and convenient chats later, Jaemin scoffs amused at the pat Renjun gives him on his back. Good job it means, as he promised; no drama, just some of his usual answers not pungent enough to create a scandal, walking all slicked in Jungwoo’s creation showing it off in his lean frame. He takes a glass of wine, down half of it in a hopeless attempt to have the night vanish now he has no meaning to be there, unappeased by crystals and important names.

Honestly he’s avoiding them himself, not a fan of social linking, trying to escape from conversations walking outside to have a smoke, rolling his eyes at the shoes following him right on occasion. The band’s music plays booming the floors, exciting the guests as a first cold wind starts pinking his cheeks, forgetting until that moment how fresh air smells like.

“You must be really bored to follow me here. Aren’t you enjoying all the sparkle inside?”.

He gives a slanted look to the man, walking to the wide balcony where he stands.

“You’re the only one who has something unpredictable to say”.

“Sure”. Jaemin nods, raising his fourth or more so glass in a toast before chugging it down. He soundly smacks his lips, forearms leaning to the avory banisters. Jeno mirrors his movements, tilting head to face him.

“I thought you only needed a good fuck. I have to retreat my statement, you have the looks”. He slides the chalice to the banister’s surface, the cringing sound of scrubbing glass. “Then why?”.

“Not following you”. Jeno frowns, judging him with a stare alone.

“Why are you so obsessed with me?”.

Jeno snickers, shoulders shaking in a mean and incredulous laugh. “So fucking self centered”.

He gestures between them, shaking his head slightly and focusing on the view outside. 

“You think I like this job? Being a nosey writing about assholes who have everything just to sabotage themselves? I wanted to be a writer, not stupidly gossiping about celebrities”. 

“I’m the asshole I guess”. Jaemin smirks, tongue caught between his teeth, a look at the city view Jeno anticipated on admiring. Beaming buildings and darkness calming, broken by the chandelier inside and all those camera flashes clicking noisily reminding him where they really are.

“Fine”. He sighs dramatically and turns, back pressing to the banisters. “Let’s get out of here. I’m going to give you some material for your next article”.

Jeno stands still watching Jaemin making a few steps ahead of him, sticking out in his red suit in the luxury event alone. He’d look completely insane outside the Vegas lights. Jeno stays pensive, slow to turn and watches Jaemin rolling his eyes.

“Now or never”. He moves his way out.

Colors against red flashy lights swallowing them whole, golden sparkly signs and busy streets shouting bender. Las Vegas, people tired of looking good strolling in the stolen darkness, craving fun and gamble between a clacson and a chorus out of tune currently walking next to them. Heathens free in the night.

Jaemin didn’t plan this through, Jeno with his breath rushed following his pace to the streetwalk. He was going to celebrate on his own anyway, nibbling at a cigarette nervous in his lips as he fumbles quickly for a lighter he doesn’t have in the fancy suit.

Jeno hands him one, mentioning in acknowledgement as the flame finally burns in smoke shadowing with red, light blue, yellow, whatever color light falls on their washed out faces in a frenzy of a walk.

They pass by Jaemin’s trusted luxury hotel, waving at Jaehyun Jung who lets them in. He calls Jeno a friend of his, not missing the laugh the man makes sliding shoes to the shiny floors reaching the special lounge gleaming in purple Jaemin mentioned.

The strip is always a good place to get lost for a couple of hours turning to morning roses and a stranger’s bed, endless possibilities to follow your personal freedom in a couple of good banknotes confined in the short hours starting from dusk. Heaven to someone excessive as Jaemin going to the fullest experience, where his pockets largely afford.

If Jeno wants an article Jaemin is going to give him a diamond tip, he doesn’t care how exposed he gets. Directors haunt him to accept a role, there’s nothing new or scandalous about this to reveal that could change it for him at the end of the day. Many celebrities live on the high road. Short for sure, yet the glow is ravishing.

They have a couple of drinks together, Jeno trying to ask questions he answers evasive or with a shrug of shoulders. Cheap, nothing Jeno’s witty brain can’t figure on his own.

“Not important, try this one”. He pushes a blue stuff drink, light blue liquid trembling with the shift at the counter and Jeno lifts his eyebrows.

“I’m not here to drink”.

“But you’ve never tasted this one”. Jeno narrows his eyes and takes the straw apathetic, sipping alcohol, lashes fanning down his cheeks. Blue line inside the glass lowering, the tip of his tongue colored when it darts out between his lips. “You promised me an article”. 

Jaemin smiles, beaming with it and watching the man slumping somehow still graciously to the stool. “Why are you in such a big hurry, Lee. We have the whole night”.

He holds his bottom lip watching Jeno’s elusive eyes to the strippers, a look he recognizes too well. Interesting, he finally found something that doesn’t make Jeno the tedious brown outfit man he’s been so far. Jaemin raises his hand to order a drink, head barely dizzy; good alcohol intolerance discovered through the years reaching the limit many times, a special trait of his.

Jaemin opens the little notebook resting at the counter, notes of interviews he’s got after the event, flipping the previously quickly pulled back pages with crimping sides. He smiles at the bartender snatching the drink thanking him, arm sneaking around Jeno’s shoulders where he’s turned towards the dancers.

“Mh, I got something fitting your taste”. He presses his lips to the shell of Jeno’s ear. “A blowjob maybe”.

Jeno stills in his impeccable posture shooting up at the words, cold blood staring at Jaemin’s lips briefly. He challenges the look; queer recognizes queer and Jeno looks awfully familiar. No one is going to pay attention to them when the journalist that could expose him is already involved in the possible scandal. 

He pushes the drink to Jaemin’s lips instead, gaze heavier than the goody-goody ones left all evening. “Sounds more like yours''.

Jaemin drinks a sip of it, tongue slow to wet his lips, satisfied to see Jeno gawking. “I like both receiving and giving. See?”. There’s the drink rim between their lips distancing them, glass clouding with his heated breath blowing against it. “We do have something in common”.

Jeno pushes the drink back to Jaemin’s lips, turning to the counter direction and there’s a hand gripping at his nape, black hair line tangling in the long slim fingers. He orders a drink, parting his lips as he stares at Jaemin.

“Are all the scandals with those actresses a way to cover it?”.

“No”. Jaemin steadies to the counter mirroring Jeno. “I like both”.

Jeno nods, drinking half burning liquid of a bitter when the bartender slides it his way on the rocks. Jaemin takes the notepad, stretches his arm to make it fall in Jeno’s free hand. Giving a questioning look. 

“Not writing yet? This is big news, Lee”.

“Once again, asshole”. Jeno gives him a stern look, opening the blank and written pages before Jaemin huffs surprised seeing him throwing the drink at it, ruining ink smudging all over the wet paper. Jeno sighs, uneasy, hands in his hair and he shuts his eyes.

“I was just pissing you off when I asked about you and Xiao. This is different”. 

“It’s your job”.

“What do you exactly want from me Jaemin?”. Jeno asks, irritated, sending an apologetic look to the bartender excusing the drink slipped from his hands. Bullshit, he clearly saw it but the man might be used to these kinds of scenes, proceeding to wipe the pool of alcohol on the counter with a wet cloth.

“Nothing. Unless you want something from me”. 

Jeno tugs his own bottom lip with his index finger, scouring him in thought. He glances at the exit. “An interview, that’s what I want. My house, and take off that jacket or else everyone will notice you”.

“No need to keep me a secret sweet, I belong to everyone's tv screen. And I have no shirt underneath”.

“Just get your ass up”. Jeno rolls his eyes, annoyed by getting Jaemin in a full blown laugh, check left on the counter as he follows him outside.

“Now what? Are you going to kill me?”. Jaemin smiles amused falling to Jeno’s colorful kitchen chair, comfortably bending a leg to the seat he hugs, nose itchy from the last stop he made at the club. Jeno silently offers him a glass of water, and has a proper notepad back in his hands he picks up somewhere. “At least make sure the flowers on my grave are pretty”.

Jeno gives him a scowl, clicking sound from the pen sphere hitting the table and he bites it staring at him. Patiently, the brown jacket is still strikingly disturbing Jaemin’s peace. 

“I have an idea”. Jaemin says before him, enjoying the impatient jitter growing on Jeno’s body, starting from his tapping feet to the floor.

“You have lots of ideas, apparently”. He deadpans, pointing the pen his way and Jaemin raises his hands as he committed the biggest crime and that pen is a gun. Depending on Jeno’s questions, it could be; guns for pens.

“Don’t worry, I’ll answer your questions”. Jaemin drinks the glass of water, he might need to sober up if he wants to remember Jeno’s face. Which he has to admit, it is hard not to. “In one condition, consider it a game”.

“Name it”. Jeno sighs.

“For each question, you take off your clothes. Starting from that jacket I beg you”. 

Out of all things the last one he expected is Jeno taking off said item, black short sleeves shirt fitting his surely firm body underneath. What a waste, is all Jaemin can formulate in his mind since he realized he is Jeno Lee. He doesn’t dare ask for a look at his wardrobe, his outfits scream boring and predictable, pleasing finding out the person wearing them doesn’t fit said description.

“I can’t be the only one taking clothes off, what’s your condition then?”.

“For each question I don’t answer truthfully or I don’t at all I’m taking my clothes off”.

“How do I know if you’re being honest?”. Jeno huffs, and Jaemin swears he does find the tiniest amusement in their encounter, albeit admitting it sounds like losing an unspoken bet.

“You’re smart, Lee. You won’t have problems”.

Jeno starts easy, aware he doesn’t have many questions left as he takes off his shoes and trousers, long legs hidden under the table, notebook scribbled quickly. Partners rumors with female leads left unsolved and would make him good money, which most didn’t happen and he figures Jaemin isn’t lying. The little feud with Zhong for the new movie, to which Jaemin replies simply the truth, admitting confidentially — or maybe not, that he isn’t a big fan of the director but the movie is anticipated by many who expects him to be on the screen when it comes out. 

“I noticed you never mentioned your parents. Are they proud of your job?”. 

Jaemin can tell Jeno is shivering from the small goosebumps on his arms, the apartment cold. “They are”. He says, a beat too late and Jeno unfortunately isn’t any other fool he’s met.

“That’s a lie”. Jeno tilts his head, palm of his hand tangled in the folding of his neck towards it trying to find some warmth. “I know better”.

Jaemin shakes his head, taking off the upper half of the suit, smirking in satisfaction seeing the reporter’s eyes trailing down his exposed abdomen and distracting for an instant.

“Which one aren’t they proud of? Your job or your habits?”. Jeno takes off his shirt with another question, looking challenging as Jaemin takes off his pants instead.

Finally underneath all that curse to fashion Jaemin sees him. And good looks don’t stop from his sharp features alone, there’s so much more in front of his eyes. Real beauty, one saturated by other futile things that matter more to society nowadays. Bare one devoid of any construction, making him stumble on his thoughts.

Jaemin stands up, reaching where Jeno is, eyes gazing down. “Your job or your habits?”. He whispers, taking Jeno’s fingers in his hand and letting them trace on his thigh and they go on their own without Jaemin’s encouragement. There’s fingers hooked in his underwear, pen dropped on the floor as Jeno looks up.

Jaemin shrugs his shoulders, thumb pressing to his cheek but Jeno slaps his hand away, taking one around his length and mouth dropping low through the base in one movement, hissing air out of Jaemin. Jeno’s hold on his hips is strong, almost wanting to detach himself from any kind of closeness despite the one needed for obvious reasons, except he doesn’t refuse fingers threading in his hair once Jaemin’s hips stutter to his tongue moving heavenly.

He lets Jaemin move him to his own accord, a bit faster, noticing the spit dripping down his chin, eyes shutting fiercely with a low gag when he retreats the hand and grips the table instead. Jeno truly is blessed with flawless looks; smooth skin, dark lashes clouding the rim of his lids, pink lips glossy when he pulls and Jaemin whines. It was a really good one.

“Both”. He finally answers, voice hoarse. 

Next thing Jaemin knows is his hand is wrapped around Jeno’s dick and the boy’s underwear hangs low on his ankles, too busy gaping on his cheek to take a step and leave them on the floor. Jeno’s hands grip the table, they never touch more than necessary and Jaemin traces a palm to his waist line instead, the man’s hips jerking with it.

He takes in his bitten red lips, slightly swelling at the line defining in a dark color. 

“Don’t even think of it, Na”. Jeno throws his head back, grabbing his lower back still. 

“Too bad”. Jaemin chuckles at the forehead pressing to his shoulders when a finger teases Jeno’s rim, getting its way inside with a dragged moan. “I’m a great kisser”.

Jeno brings it up later, when legs are parted flexibly and his sweaty hands grip at Jaemin’s shoulders as he thrusts into him, bed trembling under them with desperate speed. Jeno’s voice is a calming kind of sultry once stripped off his sarcastic and harsh words, moaning loudly in Jaemin’s ear, asking to go faster.

He bites Jaemin’s shoulder, teeth sinking in a deep sting as his nails scrape down his spine. Luckily they’re not long, short nails and digits pressing trying to keep those filthy sounds for himself but Jaemin repeats that he likes him loud. Of course Jeno reminds him he can do whatever he wants.

Jeno leaves an ugly mark on his shoulders once he relaxes to the headstand, stomach dirty and Jaemin takes off a condom trying to avoid staining everywhere. He traces his fingers over it, drool left in a cooling wetness to his skin.

“Maybe I should have kissed you”. He mentions his shoulder. “Sorry about that”.

Jaemin huffs out a tired laugh, chest still rising and falling quickly as he straddles Jeno. Even the bedsheets are of a terrible dark purple color, a fake plant on the nightstand and the most tasteless carpet he’s ever seen stands under the bed frame. 

A man with such taste doesn’t have the right to be so attractive, is all he can think as he gazes rather interested at Jeno's lips.“Make it up”. 

Jeno inhales with a dry sound when they kiss, hands feeling up his thighs with a slippery tongue in his mouth, holding back a moan as Jaemin teases his nipples through it, smiles at the reporter’s hand spreading his ass. 

Jaemin enjoys kissing people, could do it without sex in the way if it didn’t entail them thinking he wants more than a one night stand and spread rumor they’re his exes. Jaemin enjoys his tongue busy, sometimes biting Jeno’s bottom lip when he makes a lovely sound aroused. It’s fun, dizzying, haze clouding senses more than any alcohol or drug he tried can. 

He kisses and marks with blooming purple Jeno’s neck feeling more fingers inside him, lazily rocking his hips back panting with short whines. “Not on the bed again”. He manages out.

“Then where?”. Jeno curls his fingers, making Jaemin look at him. 

He stands up, walking to the wall and the window frame, glancing back at Jeno who makes a smile between giving up and amusement. Jaemin might be a bad liar according to Jeno but he’s making no effort hiding the fact he’s clearly enjoying the fun twist of their night.

They’re drunk, Jaemin high as well, feeding whatever they’re doing yet he’s sure they would have done it even without their little game; the right tension was already there. Jeno slaps his butt playfully, holding his waist and hooks his chin to his shoulder. Jaemin finds it sweet.

“I didn’t finger you that much, are you sure?”. 

“Growing fond of me already, Lee?”. Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows stupidly.

“Just being a decent person”. Jeno locks eyes with him as Jaemin grinds back to his length, nodding positively.

He turns with a leg circled around Jeno’s waist, a small groan at the stretch and guides him to start moving. Jaemin hasn’t been in this position for a while, yet Jeno feels extremely good. It doesn’t take long for him to sweat against the wall, languidly taking Jeno’s tongue as his body shakes with each thrust, gasping at a stronger pace. Scandal against an apartment window happening to be where no other reporter would think.

Jeno sure has the right body to handle him, and Jaemin’s ankle pushes him closer, laughing at the blown look Jeno has. He knows he looks good, probably very likeable right now where he’s indulging exactly all Jeno plans to, turning to the wall and pressing his forehead to humid glass when they both come and there’s another hickey in the crook of his neck.

Jaemin’s thighs tremble looking for the mattress in the dark, light coming from Jeno’s bathroom casting down the carpet as a few bones of his crack when he stretches. Jeno’s bed is soft, smells of fabric softener yet it feels dirty with some fresh stains falling there, holding close to his chest the wet towel he throws at him opening the door.

They don’t say much, Jaemin turns his back facing the reporter and closes his eyes to sleep, slumber easily getting over his body when he’s drunk and wearing out from a hookup’s fatigue.

Some time after the damage, 1983

“Not that bad”. Renjun sips iced coffee, finishing reading out loud the article for him in the newspaper. Picture of his outfit not giving any justice on the fading paper is the thing bothering him the most, turning the thin material in his hands as he rereads some parts where he was mentioned.

“Yeah, without considering the speculations about Na and Xiao”. He reads a line of the article, moving some gathered dust on the black wooden of Renjun’s office desk.

“We can tame them easily, no worries”. 

There's a lingering grin reading who wrote the article, a name familiar to his tongue in many ways. He rips the page off, watching his manager making an indifferent pout his way; not even asking, Renjun is used to this and simply waves at him focusing on his cigarette and glass of scotch.

Jeno’s face when he opens the door in the early evening is priceless. It has been a week exactly their first and currently last hours of bliss after the fashion show, watching the reporter widening his eyes. Obviously not expecting him there. Most definitely not pleased about their sudden meeting.

“Don’t you dare go all easy on me now, Lee”.

Jeno looks around his floor panicked, fiercely tugging his forearm inside the apartment and shutting the door abruptly.

“Are you out of your mind to come here at this hour?”. 

Jaemin seems indifferent and Jeno sighs defeated, letting him walk whenever he wants inside, hanging his denim jacket. He lingers by the poorly illuminated living room space, shutters half down and tv on in a talk show. It is the first time he gives a proper look, nothing more than a colored green fabric couch, a glass coffee table and a few drawers are there to fill the space. Also many books on a shelf he notices, bindings of different dusted colors.

Jaemin unfolds the newspaper page, gives it to Jeno. “Retreating my statement again, you needed a good fuck indeed. I just didn't know it was me to save you from wicked words”.

Jeno sits on the couch, throws the light piece of paper to the coffee table looking angry. A high neck black sweater, hair darker unmatching the fabric.

“You did decently at the fashion show, there's nothing else to comment on”. Jeno glares at him, able to burn souls. “If you think you bought me with sex you're so wrong, Na. Honestly fuck off”.

“Now you're the wrong one for thinking so lowly of yourself”. Jaemin rolls his eyes, ripping the article page to pieces in front of the reporter just to make a point. 

“This is how much I care. Of this article and all the others. I’m leaving”. Jaemin nods towards the door, doc boots hitting the floor to retrieve his jacket.

“I still have one to write”. Jeno stands up, most likely recently got back from work, a ripped piece of the paper fumbling in his fingers. 

“I told you enough”. The hold on the doorknob is loose, cold golden metal sphere shaping under his digits.

“Have you?”. Jeno makes a few steps and stands by the doorframe connecting the living room and the corridor of the entrance, light high waisted jeans discolored where his knees tap against it. 

“Do you know why I slept with you Lee?”. Jaemin rests the jacket on an unstable shoe rack, watching the reporter shake his head, leaning when Jaemin’s thumbs trace his waist. Spine resting to the doorframe, Jeno’s hands press to his shoulders and they lock eyes, lips about to graze from the closeness.

“Because you wanted me to take my brown jacket off badly?”. 

Jaemin chuckles, tongue teasing the man’s bottom lip, eyes flickering back in his and those pink lips that were too good for their kind once they let go the other night. “That as well”.

Jeno pushes his nape to kiss him, greedy lips pressing and opening allowing a dirty pace to it, taken aback by the reporter’s fingers tugging at his hair. Jaemin would love to screw his job for the countless time and go for it, yet he has to be on set and that’s what makes him pull off a step when Jeno goes to lean again. 

And in a deep part of his mind Jaemin is not ready to face yet he also thinks what the man said the other night about people — famous assholes like him throwing occasions some can only wish to have to waste.

“You’re smart, more than what you allow others to see”. Jaemin frowns in an amused face as Jeno holds his hand, sliding to his wrist and not letting him go.

“Busy?”. 

“I have to be on set. Another time?”. Jaemin looks down at the pen in Jeno’s pocket, taking it out and holding his bare arm rolling the sleeve up. He writes his phone number, at least most nights he stays at his house tired to do anything else and if he calls he would find him answer. It happens more often than all media describe him, Jaemin can be pretty much an introvert and doesn’t have endless energy.

“You just gave your number to a journalist, Na”. 

Jaemin smiles, threading the pen behind Jeno’s ear as a gentleman would do with a flower, his finger lingering to his cheek for a moment. He croons a goodbye, zipping his jacket once he’s out of the apartment block. This time he does check no cameras or unfortunate encounters are around, taking out the black sunglasses hooked in the belt loops.

‘Another time’ comes casually weeks later once Jaemin is on set, crew clapping after a demanding scene is finally completed under the burning sun and Chenle is satisfied to deem the filming day over. Jaemin is surprised to see a few reporters on set, and more so to see Jeno being one of them, this time a photographer with him. A tall wobbly young boy, looking fresh out of college with a soft face and shifting eyes everywhere.

They introduce him; Jisung Park, following Jeno around like a lost shadow. Ryujin is talking to a camera probably for what will be the behind the scenes content for the movie, invested in explaining something about her character, hair bob moving with her expressive movements passionate about her role. Jaemin agrees; the plot might be not that great but Ryujin plays such a cool cat. She also is in real life, making their chemistry job easier.

There’s the relaxing chaos of people retrieving back to their homes, makeup and wardrobe minivan closing and staff fixing equipment back inside, one empty where Jaemin is asked to get inside to be interviewed. There’s a director chair and a stool in front of it allowing the space for a small table where Jisung and Jeno walk inside once he sits.

He has some pictures taken by the boy, talks directly for another camera about today’s recording, and then Jeno asks Jisung to leave it to him alone. They’ll call him if he needs more pictures of Jaemin, he says. Jeno sits with a leg thrown over the other, tight black jeans and this time a leather jacket of the same color. It makes Jaemin smirk, he appreciates the effort.

“You never called”. Jaemin lights up a cigarette, small space clouding in white smoke, washing out Jeno’s gorgeous features.

“I let the number fade on my arm”. He holds his chin in the palm of his hand, index finger pressing to his lips and keeps staring.

Jaemin fakes to be hurt, hand smashed on his chest in a dull sound and a pained expression, getting comfortable on the chair with armrests put to use. “So, does this mean anything or were you only planning to come here and say something mean”.

“Both”. Jeno smirks as well, more of a bitten grin with how hard his cheeks are trying to not curve. Jaemin wasn’t expecting a call, if he’s honest. They had no reason, it was just a good one night stand turning into an almost fight realizing they both weren’t asking for any benefit related to their jobs out of it, only a fun time between two men attracted to men. 

None of them is bad, or planning to be truly evil to the other, got lost to something way better than the beneficial outcome running both ways between a reporter and an actor on good terms. And it all turns to nothing, Jaemin tries and fails. But Jeno is the one to speak the unpredictable, more than Jaemin ever did between them two.

“I’m here now, a call would have been useless”. Jaemin watches a hand trailing up his inner thigh, Jeno shows the open notebook and turns it with its back facing to the table before stealing his cigarette. 

“Naughty, not here where everyone can hear”.

Jeno takes a drag of smoke out, falling in Jaemin’s mouth when they kiss languidly, sneaking his tongue inside once before pulling with a soft look out of tune. “I thought this was fully your style”.

He lets Jeno in his lap, hoping the chair won’t have them down on the minivan floor. “It is”. Jaemin pinches Jeno’s firm bicep as the other keeps that lazy pace of lips down his jaw and neck, sucking a bruise after tugging down the collar of his shirt, where no one can see. “But this place is filled with many homophobic dumb fucks and it’s better if we stop it here”.

Jeno presses his lips together, a thin sigh leaving his lips. “My place?”.

“No”. Jaemin smiles, playing through the line of the buttons of Jeno’s jacket. “Let’s go to mine this time”.

When you’re a requested actor growing popular suddenly, there’s no time to think of a nice house as you’re covering new roles as soons as a journey finishes and you have to deem it old work before a premiere can even take place. This is Jaemin’s life, quickly buckled to a manager turning out to be the most decent guy he knows out of luck.

Buying an apartment just for the sake to have a roof up his head in the city between schedules. He chose it well, never missing the luxury of his apartment complex, dark marble and white slick doors at every surface of the open space, brief stairs connecting the kitchen to the living room Jeno steps curiously in a courtesy tour. They got on a taxi, sure someone saw them getting out of the set together but Jaemin is with a male journalist, the worst can happen is people assuming he’s bribing him to have a nice article or something along those lines.

Also if it stays to another wild guess people and his fans make about his sexuality, which he knows they do, it isn’t a problem. Jaemin is sure he won’t lose his work occasions even if one day that will happen; better safe than sorry he figures, knocking an unfinished glass of wine down the table as he sits there to kiss Jeno, cold fingers taking off his shirt. 

It gets quicker, more erratic than the first time, both too caught finally consuming the harboured tension in that yellow car taking them to the apartment until Jaemin takes a gasp out of air pulling out. Distraught to the couch they stumbled on and decided they had not enough patience waiting to reach his room.

All Jaemin does is close his eyes and press his temple to Jeno’s shoulder, the tension and work on set crashing on his body like a set of heavy bricks. It's harmless, Jeno’s palm on his stomach curling around his middle, yet it makes him snuggle closer. Tangle black hair in his fingers, shivering cold without any piece of clothing to cover them. Setting sun meets the line of his balcony, and their cuddling bodies.

Jaemin falls in a good sleep, the dazed kind numbing limbs needing more time to wake up than your mind does. He groans out a sound, repositioning the bird nest of his hair tickling Jeno’s chest, noticing with a glance he is already awake. Jaemin spots some faint blush on his cheekbones getting caught staring, heat of his bed’s blanket moving there during the night once they were starting to freeze on the couch.

He groans again, this time pretending to be annoyed and crawls his fingers under Jeno’s burning jaw covered in purplish bites, tilting his head down to lock eyes. “The fuck you’re doing in my bed”.

Jeno grimaces at the familiar whispered words with an attitude, head abandoned to the pillow defeated. “Ouch, this one hurts”.

“Like you didn’t know what I was doing there”. Jaemin laughs, patting his chest and closes his eyes again, not minding one bit Jeno’s warm arms lulling him back to sleep; unsure why he trusts this reporter more than he ever did with people he thought he was friends with.

It starts with a smoke hidden in narrow Vegas side streets, a cheeky hand in the back pocket of a pair of levis jeans, running short on time between a scene to record and an article to write. Hiding intimacy in the form of bites from the media, having one on his side who shifts the conversation from recent possible lovers to his career when he’s in a crowd of other reporters.

A few clothes of Jeno sprawled on a chair or neatly in Jaemin's closet — noticed by Renjun’s friendly visit at his house suddenly in realization as to why Jeno Lee’s articles aren't as troubling anymore. Jaemin oddly blushing as he explains his manager and friend he does have a somewhat serious thing going on and Renjun carefully reminds him to protect him and himself. But what's there to gossip if Jeno is the one person rarely or probably never seen slipping inside Jaemin’s apartment more than once.

He’s not famous, the small circle of Las Vegas reporters know who he is and yet it isn’t enough to associate him to Jaemin in any way without proof. Sharp features breaking in a kind smile memorized, nights taking their sweet time stripping off clothes distracted by less desperate kisses and hugging arms wrapped for too long to consider it an upgraded friendly hookup.

Questions, and doubts coming once a picture of them is out on the news. Harmless photo of Jeno shirtless hugging him from behind and hiding his hands in Jaemin’s front pockets; some older shots of them walking together that get interesting and come out on paper again once they recognize the subjects. The media small circle addresses the mystery company as Jeno, and there's titles about star Jaemin Na and his new editorial friendship Jeno Lee. 

They laugh realizing people think his goal is befriending Jeno for the sake of keeping a good image and ensuring nice words on paper. Endless answers if anyone makes the effort to look closer are there, and the number faded on Jeno’s forearm never has the chance to be written or used again if he sticks at his house all the time. 

Jeno is under him, biting his lobe to the creaking bed frame of his apartment asking him to go slower, yawning right on Jaemin’s face and he chuckles. He secretly keeps count of how long it has been since they started this, easy when his landmark stands with the fashion show fun escaping. Three months, lasting more than any official relationship Jaemin ever had.

They're both coated with sweat, terribly humid strands of hair tucking them behind Jeno’s ear, the lovely dragged out moan as he complies and goes slower for him. “You’re tired, I don’t think changing pace helps it”.

“Don't stop, you're close”.

Jaemin frowns worried when Jeno’s leg tries to stay circled around his waist but it slips weakly, body trapped between the mattress and Jaemin, not moving a bone to use. One arm stays dead weight next to his head, the other pushing him closer to keep going.

Jeno has been going around the city all day, for some time now. He doesn't want to be a reporter anymore, clearly announcing that to Jaemin and he’s trying to propose his works to someone who can get interested enough to publish one of those he has ready. It isn't easy, and Jaemin tried asking Renjun if there was a way to help him but Jeno insists he doesn't have to make him earn things. Says he can do it alone and Jaemin believes him.

Jeno writes beautifully, not realizing Jaemin’s name is only a way to not make those assholes be the usual snobs and actually pay attention to his works. It wouldn’t make him any less of a good writer having a little push. Common is that publishing houses miss real gems sometimes just because they don’t have a good name presenting them. He can tell it isn't only the physical tiredness. Jeno is growing disappointed, and losing the enthusiasm Jaemin was able to ignite in him that had them on Jeno’s bed in the first place.

“You're not in the mood”. Jaemin kisses his cheek, holding Jeno’s leg carefully to pull out and he whines, grabbing gently at his shoulders. 

“Sorry”. Jeno closes his eyes soaking Jaemin’s kisses, a soft trail to his jaw and the corner of his mouth, sweeping his sweaty hair back.

“Don't apologize, it's okay”. 

“Why can't you be an asshole of a celebrity like the rest of them?”. Jeno complains, and they both laugh at it. Tonight sounds like many nights they've been having recently. 

Too sweet, slow, not trying to get off and leave it anymore; he just likes to have Jeno close, without clothes to reach to his most intimate parts no one gets to see, and so does he. With or without layers of clothes doesn't matter anymore, the man knows more about Jaemin than his parents do. And he keeps all that’s kind and endearing in Jeno’s personality in secret mental notes, meant to stay in their apartment spaces.

Jaemin hums in thought, ironically narrowing his eyes. “You did call me an asshole once though”.

Jeno makes a brief airy laugh, framing Jaemin’s face. “I was wrong”.

“Now, were you? I have many flaws and you exceeded the expectations describing them perfectly in your articles. You’re such a good writer”.

Jeno shakes his head, biting back a smile. “Those articles are bullshit. Indeed of a frustrated man, from many points of view”. 

“Guess I saved you from the physical drought”.

Jeno’s tongue is warm, pliantly twirling to Jaemin’s pace, lazy and trying to lift the man’s mood. They will talk about it; in the morning, in front of a coffee cup and a free day off work ahead of them. A fresher mindset to cheer Jeno and at least consider the option of having Renjun’s studio working with him to be noticed. Currently focused on rolling to the mattress bringing Jeno on top of him, soothing hands through his back.

Jaemin finds the small appreciative sounds he makes in their kiss unreasonably charming, finding a way to raise the duvet over their cold sweat soaked bodies in between. Jeno groans satisfied by the sudden warmth, always terribly cold and sticking to his sides as he’s a human heater. 

“By the way”. Jeno’s head rests on his shoulder and snuggles closer when Jaemin’s arm wraps around his waist falling to his stomach. Jaemin feels a finger drawing circles to his chest, a peck of lips where he can reach the line of his jaw. “I heard your radio interview today”.

Jaemin’s nose wrinkles and his eyes shut guilty, biting a smile in his bottom lip. He’s sure his cheeks are pink, not daring to look down at Jeno sounding way too bright. He hopes it's a positive sign since he made quite a statement. They’re used to this, talking about their day cuddling in bed, getting over the times where Jaemin questioned what they’re actually doing. 

Cooking for each other, hiding in Jeno’s apartment without passing by the strip when all his attention falls to a man in a washed out big sized shirt singing to a vinyl record playing in his living room. Reading one of his books piled on the coffee table and being distracted by his swinging hips trying to clean up the dusting shelves. Not everything has to be official, yet for some reason he wants this thing with Jeno to be done the right way.

“Did you?”. He croaks out.

“Congratulations on your relationship”. Jeno holds his face and turns it to look at him, a lively lifting eyebrow. And another yawn, trying to keep it but Jaemin spots a sleepy mouth opening wider as his face gives up. “Who’s the lucky one?”.

Jaemin pretends to ponder about it, smacking his lips in a loud sound. “Just the future writer of the best sellers of this generation”.

“Jaemin”. Jeno pouts, pressing a finger to his chin.

“What? I’m serious here, you're crazy talented Jeno. And you assumed I’m talking about you, so…”.

“That’s because you’re the worst flirt!”. He playfully hits him. “My taste in men is questionable”. Jeno grimaces, looking funny and pulling Jaemin in another kiss, one making him sprawl on his body, leaning with each sloppy sound when they briefly pull for air. 

They turn the radio on later, and there's a replica of Jaemin’s interview from the morning making him shriek covering his ears, Jeno laughing and cooing at him to painfully mock him. Jaemin — never admits it or else Jeno would never stop, adores the playfulness. One that doesn't necessarily bite with sarcasm and hidden flirty words, sometimes making fun of him hiding truths that are particularly fond and would sound ridiculous if said too seriously.

And most times he thinks he could actually say them freely and he won’t judge him. It’s just Jeno Lee, a man he truly trusts and feels a connection he thought he couldn’t find in a secretly feared reporter with a sharp pen hauling him wrapped around his fingers. Same fingers threading in hair, by habit, to seek affection. Enough to make them stay another night together, this one sounding more like fever for a lover.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: when jaemin says “like the french’s displays” answering renjun telling him he has to act like an alive mannequin it is actually a precious info i got from my mother when she went to paris in the late 80s. she told me the displays of high fashion shops had real models posing for hours wearing the fits. 
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> i'm also here [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenlvbug) [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/ir02ne)


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